


Among the White Ash

by TheyCallMePoppy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, American Magic School, American schools are broke, But the Potters don't appear until later, F/M, Main cast is original characters, Multi, Neither do the rest of the Weasleys, Percy becomes a Transfiguration teacher, Percy becomes kinda sorta cool, Peter never betrayed the Marauders, Post-Graduation, They will visit Hogwarts at some point, Though they are mentioned frequently, Wizarding School in America, and gets friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:11:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5557430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheyCallMePoppy/pseuds/TheyCallMePoppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being passed over for a job at the Ministry, a desperate Percy Weasley accepts a position as a Transfiguration professor at a public wizarding school in America. Ashwood Valley High School is a small, close-knit community tucked away in the heart of America, short on funds and held together with little more than duct tape and some very inventive magic. Percy's first impression is not particularly impressed. But, as he grows closer to his students and colleagues, he realizes that he just might have a chance of being accepted by these kind, quirky people. He begins to learn how to truly be himself around others. And how to build a home while he does it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Among the White Ash

**Author's Note:**

> Just as a preface for those who might and likely will be confused, this story is selfishly set in an alternate universe where Peter never betrayed the Marauders, the Potters were never killed, and Harry has been raised by his parents. This fact won't become relevant for some time, entirely different setting and all, but it's something to consider when reading. Because why not start off happy? We have plenty of time for pain later.

“Oh god.” Laura’s head lands on the wooden desktop. She groans. “So. Much. Paperwork.”

 

“Fuck off, this is _nothing_ ,” Gia snaps from across the room. She’s barricaded her own desk with stacks of reimbursement forms and old receipts. She combs a hand through her blonde bangs roughly, glaring down at the ledger opened before her, as if to force the numbers to cooperate. “Don’t complain.”

 

“Easy, Gia,” Matt mumbles from the next desk over. Without looking up, right hand still busy scribbling away on another incident report, he picks up his mug of steaming coffee and holds it out towards her.

 

Gia takes the mug from him with a grumble, so low and quiet that it could be anything from “Thanks” to “Fuck you” and no one would be able to tell. She sips the coffee a bit, and some of the tension in her face eases.

 

“God, this sucks,” Laura says. Turning her head to face her left, she says, “Michi, I’m bored. Entertain me.”

 

Michi “hmm”s, half-listening as she finishes signing an event approval form. She has the largest load of the room: she is sitting at the long, rectangular teacher’s desk at the front of the room, completely surrounded by foot-tall stacks of paperwork of varying subjects. They look a chaotic mess upon first glance, but one watching her work can see that there is a certain, personal order to the madness under which she operates. She sweeps the signed form off into one of the piles on the corner of the desk and pulls out the next one, eyes beginning to skim over the lines swiftly.

 

“How is she supposed to entertain you?” Cayla asks with a small smile. She is sitting curled up on the window sill seat, an open manila folder balanced on her knees and another two stacks of them on the cushion by her feet.

 

“Kiss,” Warren calls out. He is working his way through a stack of club member recommendation forms in front of him, carefully copying down possible member names and contact information onto a separate piece of paper. “I could use a wank-break.”

 

Jake, sitting next to him, grimaces at the potions book he’s spelling back together with his wand and (in the worst places) duct tape. He has a stack of “fixed” books on the floor next to his chair and a bigger stack of falling apart ones on the desk next to his. “God, I don’t want to hear that. Way TMI.”

 

“No, he’s right. Michi, wax poetic to me, babe,” Laura says, shifting so that her crossed arms are wedged underneath her. A lewd smirk stretches her lips as she stares at the other girl with convincing bedroom eyes.

 

“There once was a man from Nantucket,” Michi says blankly, signing along the bottom of the next form.

 

The room erupts in laughter, though it’s a bit strained. They’re all tired, really. This is the “go” part of the summer; the month before the beginning of the school year where everyone wants to start planning things in advanced, creating new clubs, organizing start-of-the-year events, all at the same time. As everyone in the room runs their own clubs and organizations around the school, on top of helping out with other classes, their workload has been excessively large lately in preparation for the coming year.

 

Looking up, Laura says, “Charlie, change the music.”

 

The younger boy looks up, blinking at her, and then reaches behind himself to fiddle with the knob of the radio on the desk behind him. The song belting out through the speakers of the little radio changes from classic rock to an upbeat pop song instantly, and he turns his attention back to the game. He and Kathleen are sitting in desks pushed front-to-front on the edge of the room, playing a game with cards full of magical creatures and stats.

 

“Look at this!” Gia says, slapping the receipt in her hand. Her narrowed, blue eyes scan the lines of it furiously as she says, “Fifty bucks on new pads for the Quidditch team? What, are we made of money now?”

 

“We’re getting new pads? That’s great.” Laura perks up a bit. “You know Kali busted her shoulder the last time a bludger ran into her? ‘cause the leather was so worn out. We’ve had those pads for eight years.”

 

“It’ll save us hospital bills in the long run,” Matt mediates.

 

“Fuck Gary,” Gia says, throwing down the receipt. She angrily starts to write the details down in the ledger, saying, “Didn’t even get the charge approved by me beforehand. Where the hell does he get off?” Hand pausing in its furious scribbles, she looks up and around warily, “Where is he, anyway? I’m gonna punch him for this.”

 

Laura rolls her eyes and, sighing, starts on signing her own papers again. “Still home. He’s not coming until the week before the semester starts. Which means his lucky vice-captain gets to take all his duties instead.”

 

“We appreciate the work, Laura,” Cayla says.

 

Laura just nods, frowning. “Hate paperwork though. I don’t get how you guys do this every week.”

 

“Hey.”

 

Attention turns to Michi at the front of room, who is now holding a new form in her hands, eyes roaming over the lines. She clicks her tongue thoughtfully.

 

“We’re getting a new Transfig teacher,” Michi finally explains. The residents of the room immediately sit up, interest piqued.

 

“Yeah?” Matt asks, standing up to walk over to her.

 

“Who is he?” Jake asks, flicking a look over at Warren when he pulls his laptop out of his bag and turns it on.

 

“Weasley,” Michi says. Gaze jumping over the page a few times, she says, “Percy Weasley.”

 

“ _That’s_ a last name,” Gia says, snickering.

 

Matt comes up behind Michi and leans a hand on the desk, reading the form over her shoulder. “Hogwarts graduate.”

 

“Hogwarts?” Kathleen looks up curiously, hands pausing over her cards.

 

“Why the hell is a Hogwarts teacher coming here?” Laura asks.

 

Smiling, Jake guesses, “He lost a bet?”

 

Shaking her head, Michi says, “Not a teacher. Just a student there.”

 

Brows dropping on his forehead, Matt grabs the corner of the paper and angles it to take a closer look, squinting his eyes. He rereads the same line a few times, then says, “Graduated this year.”

 

“This year?” Cayla repeats, looking up from her folder in bemusement.

 

“So he’s, what? 18?” Jake says, looking around for confirmation.

 

“18,” Warren confirms. His eyes are fixed on his laptop screen, his hands moving fast over the keyboard.

 

“And not even from here. Damn. He’s a goner,” Gia says, shaking her head as she turns back to her receipts. The pause that follows her comment seems to be in agreement.

 

“Why is he coming here?” Kathleen asks the room.

 

Shrugging her shoulders a bit, Laura says, “Why do any of them end up here? Because they’re broke and jobless.”

 

“Still, he has to be pretty desperate to look for jobs _here_ ,” Gia says.

 

“He is,” Warren says. The room turns to him now, finding him to be staring at his laptop and scrolling through information on his screen quickly. “Percy Weasley, 18, son of Arthur and Molly Weasley. British Ministry of Magic archives say he applied for a position but was denied employment. Guess he wasn’t good enough or something. His dad is the Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. He’s got–” Warren pauses, blinking at his screen. “Whoa, seven siblings. That’s harsh.”

 

“Lot of mouths to feed,” Matt agrees.

 

Fingers clicking over the keyboard again, Warren says, “Checked his WizLinks file. He applied for assistant teaching places all over the place after the Ministry turned him down. Looks like the other schools didn’t want him for his inexperience and age.”

 

“Ouch,” Jake says sympathetically. “Guy can’t catch a break.”

 

“Guess that’s how we got him though,” Warren says.

 

“He must be disappointed. I guess to him we’re bottom of the totem pole,” Cayla says sadly.

 

“And proud,” Jake says. Warren reaches over without looking to give him a high-five, which is returned with a grin.

 

“Yeah, well, disappointed or not, we need’im.” Michi sits back in her chair and crosses her arms. “We can’t hold onto new teachers to save our lives, and the ones we already have are starting to have to cover too many classes.”

 

“Be real, Mich,” Gia says, eyes on her papers but a frown tugging at her lips. “He’s probably some superior, British model student who didn’t climb the ladder like he wanted to. He’ll leave us the second a better offer comes along.”

 

“Then we’ll just have to make sure we’re always the best offer,” Michi says.

 

A few amused and skeptical expressions crop up around the room. Laura even snorts again and ducks her head back towards her papers.

 

“What have we got to offer him?” Matt asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

 

Michi looks back at him over her shoulder, her expression uncharacteristically serious. “We’ve got family.”

 

“You think he’s gonna be accepted here?” Warren asks, finally looking up from his screen.

 

“He better be,” Michi says. The others look unmoved when she scans her eyes around the room, so she says firmly, “I mean it, guys. We need to make him feel welcome here if we’ve got any chance of keeping him. I’ll do my part, but you better do yours, too.”

 

Laura groans again. “Ugh, _why_? What if he’s a dick?”

 

“Then make him a welcomed dick,” Michi says. A few different laughs go off around the room, and she cracks a smile. Looking around at them again, she says, “Just do what we usually do. It’ll all work out.”

 

A few murmurs, a few chuckles, and then everyone returns to work. Michi reaches out to grab a plastic ink stamp on her right. She brings the stamp down onto the top of the new teacher’s application, releasing a soft “click.” When she pulls it back up again, the word “APPROVED” is stamped across the top in blocky, bold, red letters. She slides the form aside and reaches for the next one.

 

**_____________________________________________________________________________________**

 

She feels the magic before she sees him: that big, explosive burst of force that detonates just a few feet away from her. Her eyes are already turning in that direction by the time the figure begins to manifest. She watches as he starts walking (he’s _striding_ , actually) in the air as he slowly comes down onto the ground.

 

Shiny shoes, is the first thing she notices. Then the briefcase tucked under his arm, and then the folded newspaper Portkey in his hand. Red, curly hair, pale skin, sharp, blue eyes (behind horn rimmed glasses) but round, pudgy cheeks with freckles. He’s tall and thin, almost lanky, and he holds his head up high, like a snob. He’s wearing a suit.

 

Oof. This is gonna be rough.

 

She can’t help the smile on her face as she trots up to meet him. The second his feet touch the ground, she shoves her hand in his direction.

 

“Hey,” she says.

 

“Hello,” he returns, and yes, there is definitely something snobbish about his tone. He eyes her hand warily for a moment before reaching out and shaking it. He’s got practically no grip.

 

“Michelle Nichols. Call me Michi or Mich.” She clutches his hand firmly, seeing if she can get him to give a better handshake, but he just frowns at her and takes his hand back quickly. “I’m student council president here.”

 

“Percy Weasley,” he says. She’s not imagining the uncertainty in his eyes. He looks like he’s almost afraid of her – like she’s about to jump out and shove him to the ground or something. He’s not afraid of girls, is he? Or other kids his age? Because that’s going to make this tough. Tougher than it’s already going to be, at least.

 

“Come on,” she says, angling her head off to their left. She starts walking in that direction, calling back to him over her shoulder, “I left the car over here.”

 

He hurries to catch up with her and then keeps pace, looking around them with narrowed eyes. She doesn’t know what he was expecting. Evidently not to end up in a forest, if the suit is any indication. Too bad for him though. He’s going to have to get used to forests and the outdoors if he wants to work here.

 

They break through the trees and end up on a dirt road that carves through the forest. The car (an old, grey Ford Taurus an alumnus left behind for them when he graduated) is parked on the sloping ledge on one side of the road, waiting for them. Michi pulls the keys out of her pocket and walks up to the driver’s door, using the key to unlock it. When she looks back over at him, he’s standing awkwardly by the trunk, staring at her in disbelief.

 

“What?” she asks, pulling the driver’s door open.

 

“Excuse me, but _how_ old are you?” he asks.

 

Leaning on the car door, Michi says, “16.”

 

“You’re not legal,” he says.

 

“Better check your facts, Carrot Top,” Michi says, sliding into the driver’s seat but leaving the door open for him to hear her. There is a smirk on her face when she catches him scowling at the nickname in the rearview mirror. She puts the key in the ignition and cranks it. “16 is legal for driving in the US. Sometimes even 15, depending on the state.”

 

“You’re kidding,” he says, face appearing in the passenger seat’s window. He looks even more disbelieving than before.

 

She gestures for him to open the door, shutting her own at the same time. “Not even. Why? Do you want to drive?”

 

He opens the passenger door and sits down stiffly, eyeing the interior of the car with a disapproving air. “Not particularly, no.”

 

Michi turns her smirk onto him. Warren mentioned that he was a pureblood; he’s probably never been in a non-magical car in his life. She shakes her head and pulls her seatbelt over herself, saying, “Great. Then shut your door, and let’s go.”

 

He doesn’t look very happy about it, but he shuts his door and settles his briefcase down by his feet. She waits for him to put his seatbelt on and then pulls off the parking brake, putting the car in drive and taking off down the road slowly. Percy bends down and cracks his briefcase open, busying himself with dropping his newspaper Portkey into it. He’s probably a little nervous about all this, so she’ll go easy on him. Not like there’s anyone else on this road to cuss her out for going slow anyway.

 

“Sorry about the trip. We’ve got a Portkey Confundus charm up over the campus to keep alumni from sneaking in and messing things up,” Michi explains.

 

Percy’s eyes whip over to her as he shuts his briefcase. “What?”

 

Michi laughs. “Yeah, I know. But, trust me, we need it. Can’t even tell you how often graduates have tried to come on campus and crash classes and pull pranks for old time’s sake. We put Anti-Apparition jinxes up, but then they started making their own Portkeys, so we had to improvise.”

 

“Production of unregistered Portkeys is illegal!” Percy sputters, sitting up.

 

“Yeah.” Michi shoots him a quick, amused glance from her periphery before looking back to the road. “Who’s gonna stop ‘em, though?”

 

“I–” Percy pauses, brow furrowing deeply. He blinks at the road, then at her, and says, “Is the M.C.U.S.A. refusing to act on it?”

 

“‘kay, _first of all_ , we call it MACUSA here,” Michi says, rolling her fingers over the steering wheel with a smile. She follows the curve of the road and shifts the car to a higher gear as they start going uphill. “No ‘A’ word in the middle, I know, but it hits the tongue better.”

 

“MACUSA,” Percy says after her, testing the word. He winces the moment it leaves his mouth. It sounds so – _playful_. Unprofessional. He can’t imagine nicknaming the Ministry anything so silly-sounding (though he knows for a fact that his siblings have the unfortunate habit of doing just that on occasion).

 

Nodding, Michi says, “Right. _Secondly_ , MACUSA doesn’t get on people’s cases about that kind of stuff.” Percy begins to protest, so she cuts him off by saying, “I know it’s different in the UK, but that’s probably because you’ve got less territory to cover. It’s hard to thoroughly enforce laws when your country is so frickin’ huge. MACUSA is usually just there to settle disputes and handle the big-bads in our country. They don’t have time to worry about a few illegal Portkeys.”

 

Percy sinks lower in his seat, eyes fixed with dread on the dashboard in front of him. There’s really no thorough magical enforcement? In this _whole_ country? How hideously disorganized!

 

“Plus,” Michi says, flicking another look over at him. Her expression is more serious than he’s seen on her so far, and it catches his attention. She looks back to the road. “I don’t know how much you’ve been following American politics, but we’re kind of in a cluster right now when it comes to our government. They’ve got their hands full over in DC.”

 

Percy frowns, wondering what she means. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any time to research American politics (let alone American _Muggle_ politics) before he came here. He received his letter of employment just a week ago and had to scramble to make preparations (not the least of which was registering and making a _legal_ international Portkey) for the trip over. He supposes it was neglectful on his part to not do more research on the country before applying to a school here. Oh well, though. It’s too late now. He’ll just have to make a reminder to himself to do the research once he settles down here.

 

A gate comes into sight ahead of them, built into a tall, wrought iron fence that stretches in either direction for as far as Percy can see. There are two young men playing cards on a collapsible table in front of the guardhouse, which is a brown, wooden shack with a few windows and a single door, stationed in front of the fence but to the side of the road. They look up when they notice the car approaching, expressions wary for a moment before lightening when they recognize the car.

 

Michi pulls the car up to a stop by the guardhouse. One of the men puts down his cards and comes up to the car, so she rolls down Percy’s window to meet him.

 

He looks a few years older than Percy with messy, brown hair, blue eyes, and a slightly scarred-over face. There is something disturbingly sharp about the grin he shoots Percy when he leans over the car, face hovering just outside the open window. Percy returns the man’s gaze with a disapproving one of his own.

 

“So, this is him?” the man asks.

 

Michi leans forward and places a hand on Percy’s shoulder (he stiffens, resisting the urge to brush it off), smiling at the man. “Sure is. This is Percy. Percy, this is Hogan. He’s on our security team.”

 

“Redhead.” Hogan laughs. It’s so sudden that it makes Percy jump a bit. Hogan doesn’t miss it, if the way he smirks at Percy is any indication. “He Irish? Hamish’ll like that – having another leprechaun around.”

 

“Hamish is Scottish,” Michi says. Percy glances back at her just in time to see her roll her eyes, but there’s still a smile pulling at her lips.

 

“Is he? Damn, I forgot,” Hogan says. But the way he smiles slyly, more laughter dancing in his eyes, tells Percy he’s lying.

 

It tells Michi, too, evidently. “You’re an asshole.”

 

Again Percy looks back at her, this time in disbelief and a bit of _horror_. She’s smiling at Hogan fully now, though, and Percy realizes that there wasn’t anything particularly angry in her tone – just playful and affectionate. He straightens up when Hogan erupts in loud, deep chuckles over his head. The man actually looks _amused_ when Percy turns back to him.

 

“Nice talkin’ to ya, babe,” Hogan teases. He slaps the car’s roof and straightens up, head moving away from Percy’s window. He calls out to the other man, “They’re clear!”

 

Percy is too busy processing the proceedings in shock. What – How are – Why isn’t he – Percy doesn’t _understand_! Has he ended up in some sort of _mad world_? Where underage teens can drive, and school alumni have to be managed like Peeves on April Fools, and students can curse at staff and then be called flirtatious nicknames within the span of a minute? Where in Circe’s girdle is he?

 

Hogan and the other man both turn to the gate, pull out their wands, and raise them. Percy can hear Hogan murmuring a long, fast series of words under his breath, but he is too quiet for Percy to decipher any of them individually. His attention is pulled when the gate in front of them suddenly rattles and then begins to slide to the left, opening a path for them.

 

Michi says, “Thanks, guys. We’ll see you later.”

 

“Hey, good luck, noob,” Hogan says, patting the car’s roof again. It takes Percy a moment to realize that Hogan is talking to _him_ , but, when he does, he glares at him. This just makes him smirk again. “Word to the wise, by the way – lose the suit. This ain’t your tea-and-crumpets country.”

 

“ _Bye_ , Hogan. See you, Cory!” Michi waves to the other young man still at the table, who waves back.

 

She quickly pulls her foot off the brake and presses the gas, sending them cruising through the open gate and down the road again. Percy glances back over his shoulder, watching as Hogan walks back over to the table and picks up his cards, sending the gate closing behind them with a loose flick of his wand. Percy turns to face forward again, a distinctly unsettled feeling in his chest. That was – intimidating.

 

As if sensing this thought, Michi reaches forward and shuts on the radio. Percy jars a bit when loud static suddenly bursts from the car’s speakers, but Michi tunes the knob a bit until a (mostly clear) song comes through. Rock music, Percy notices with some disdain. American rock music. He’d rather have the radio off.

 

“Sorry about him,” Michi says.

 

Percy turns to her, frown deepening. “He was rather … crude.” His brow furrows as he demands, “Is that how you talk to the staff here? Using such – foul language? It seems an insult to his profession.”

 

Michi laughs. “What about Hogan strikes you as demanding respect? He’s a goof and an asshole half the time, then a ferocious wolfman the other half.”

 

Percy’s face pales. He shoots a concerned glance over his shoulder again, but the gate is already far out of sight. “He … He’s a werewolf?”

 

Michi hums, nodding. “They both are. We’ve got a pack here on campus.”

 

“You – a _pack_? Why _on earth_ –”

 

“For our werewolf students,” Michi explains. The road forks, and she takes them on the left path. Without a turn signal, Percy notes with disapproval. “It helps keep them under control on full moon nights if they’re in a pack setting.”

 

“They welcome werewolves as students here?” Percy asks softly, mostly to himself. He is staring forward again in horror, face so white that his freckles clearly stand out.

 

Michi glances over at him sharply, hands tightening over the steering wheel. Percy is startled by how piercing her eyes are on him. She explains, “We welcome all students: Beasts, Beings, and everything in between. That’s not going to be a problem for you, is it? Because, if it is, we can turn right back around and send you home.”

 

“Wait! No, I …” Percy pauses, clearing his throat and regaining his composure. He says confidently, “No, it won’t be a problem. Rest assured, I will be able to maintain utmost professionalism here.”

 

He doesn’t like this – having to bow to the threats of a girl two years younger than him. A girl _Fred and George’s_ age. But he really needs this job. After the Ministry turned him down, and Hogwarts said they didn’t have any open positions, he was extremely worried that he would end up back at the Burrow helping his mother around the house. Which is neither something his parents need (the extra mouth to feed and all), nor something that Percy wants. This place, slightly _mental_ as it may be, is his last chance.

 

“Yeah, well, we don’t need professionalism, Percy.” Michi turns back to the road and shakes her head. “We just need you to teach everyone. Fairly, equally, and the best you can. You do that, and it won’t matter if you show up to class in your underwear.”

 

“What?” Percy says shrilly.

 

Smiling, Michi says, “Just making a point. Though–” She looks over at him again, this time trailing her eyes down his body. Percy fidgets uncomfortably under that stare. “–Hogan was right; you might want to lose the suit. We do casual attire here. No uniform, for students or teachers. You’ll stick out like a sore thumb if you dress like that every day.”

 

Percy’s eyebrows raise. “They have no uniform for students here?”

 

“Most of the students wouldn’t be able to afford it even if we did,” Michi explains. A pause, then, “Including me.”

 

And Percy frowns, turning his attention out of the window next to him. He can understand that at least; his family never had much money to begin with, let alone once the full Weasley brood was born and going to Hogwarts. Books, wands, pets, uniforms – they added up over time. By the time the younger Weasleys started going to Hogwarts, anything not irreparably broken was handed down from the older siblings. Charlie had even bequeathed his old wand to their younger brother Ron before Ron started at Hogwarts.

 

The world passing by is a canvas of brown trunks and bright green leaves. They’re in a valley in the heart of America, evidently close to the border between the states Arkansas and Oklahoma. Ashwood Valley, Percy thinks. Because the name of the school is Ashwood Valley High School. He has never been much for forests (that sort of outdoors business was always more of Charlie’s territory), but Percy admits there is something particularly nice about this forest: the tall, green trees, fresh, brown soil, the bird calls over their heads, and the sun shining through the leaves, casting beams of golden light to the ground. It’s peaceful.

 

Michi evidently notices him eyeing the scenery, as she begins to explain, “The campus is a little less than two-thousand acres. That’s, hmm, about eight square kilometers. The school isn’t that big though – most of that land is for farming.” At his curious look, she adds, “The farms on campus grow or raise our food, then sell whatever we don’t eat at market to earn money for the school. Most of the workers are graduates, actually. You’ll probably get the chance to see them later, if you want.”

 

“Perhaps,” Percy says noncommittally. Honestly, farms hold very little to no appeal for him. Herbology wasn’t exactly his favorite subject, after all.

 

The treeline on their left drops suddenly, and Percy looks out Michi’s window as the valley opens up beside them. It is, admittedly, a bit breathtaking: sloping ridges, full of the green trees all around them, coming down to meet at a vertex where a thin, deep, blue river carves through the middle. He sees stretches of clearings, where there is nothing but smooth, green grass and open sunlight. He can imagine going to those fields and settling under the shade of a tree with a nice book, breathing in the smell of moist soil and dewy leaves and fresh air. He’ll have to do that at some point.

 

“Classes start in two weeks,” Michi says suddenly, tuning the radio when it begins to produce static again. She settles it on a station that plays jazz. “The students will start coming on campus next Monday, so you’ll have until then to get a feel of the place while it’s mostly empty. Once you get settled, I’ll show you where the most basic things are to start off with: your apartment, the cafeteria, your classroom, etcetera.”

 

Percy nods, trying to exhume confidence. “Very well.”

 

“Steadley’s the principal here.” _Headmaster_ , Percy corrects in his mind. Michi continues, unaware of his thoughts, “You’ll probably meet up with him sometime in the next week. He’ll ask you what your lesson plan is, but don’t worry; he’s usually pretty chill about–”

 

“Hold on,” Percy interrupts, confused. He waits for Michi to glance over, then asks, “I’m supposed to design the lesson plan? Isn’t that the duty of the Transfiguration professor?”

 

“Teacher,” Michi corrects in a startlingly similar way to Percy’s inner voice. “We just call them teachers here. And, no, Percy–” She looks back over at him, equally as confused. “You _are_ the Transfiguration teacher.”

 

Percy’s stomach sinks. He takes in a sharp breath, pulse kicking up, and rasps, “What? No, I’m the assistant teacher.”

 

Simpering, Michi turns back to the road, saying, “Kind of hard to be an assistant to the teacher if there _is_ no teacher to begin with.”

 

“You’ve had no Transfiguration teacher until now?” Percy demands, because _that_ thought is even more startling.

 

Shaking her head, Mich says, “No, we had one. But our physics teacher is on maternity leave, and Mackie’s always wanted to teach that. When you applied to the school, they moved him over to her classes and gave the Transfig classes to you.”

 

“ _What_?” Percy nearly shouts. He’s clutching the legs of his trousers harshly, trying to calm his heavy breathing. “I – I’m not qualified to teach by myself. I’m _18_ , for Merlin’s sake!”

 

“Hey, calm down,” Michi says, putting her hand on his shoulder again. Percy shakes it off this time. “Percy, _calm down_. It’ll be OK.”

 

“No, are you _mental_? I can’t – there must be some mistake. There has to be,” Percy says quickly, reaching down to pick up his briefcase.

 

“Jesus,” Michi mumbles, putting on her blinker. She pulls the car over to the side of the road and puts it in park, then turns to face him while reaching down to grab his wrist. “Percy, calm down. Deep breaths. In and out.”

 

“I can’t be the teacher on my own! I just graduated myself!” Percy says.

 

“ _Breathe_ , Percy,” Michi says, raising her voice.

 

A deep breath stutters roughly into his chest. He holds it for a moment and then lets it out slowly, remembering the times his mum had to calm him down in the months leading up to him receiving his wizarding test scores. He’s never dealt with anxiety particularly well. He’s just glad his younger siblings aren’t here to make fun of him for panicking.

 

Michi waits for him to calm down, studying his face. She lowers the hand he is holding his briefcase with to the ground and carefully pries his fingers from the death-grip he has on the handle. Well, this isn’t going so well. He’s ready to bolt, and he hasn’t even seen the school yet. God knows what he’ll do when he sees what the campus actually looks like. Ashwood Valley is no Hogwarts, after all.

 

His breathing evens out after a while. Michi puts her hand on his shoulder again while placing his hand back in his lap. She says, “Look, we ran a background check on you before we accepted you, you know. O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s in every subject you tested for. Not to mention straight O’s for both in Transfiguration, and your Transfig professor gave you a really good reference letter. Trust me when I say you’re qualified enough to teach a few kids how to turn a butterfly into a comb.”

 

“You ran a background check on me?” Percy asks, startled.

 

Michi smiles sheepishly. “We got curious.” She turns to face forward and shifts the car into drive again, saying, “Sorry about what went down with the Ministry. By all accounts, they should’ve taken you in a heartbeat. The other schools, too.” She glances over her shoulder to assure no other cars are coming and then pulls them onto the road, continuing down it. “I’m honestly surprised we got you.”

 

“So am I,” Percy murmurs, eyes drifting the window. When it finally dawns on him that they’re moving again, his eyes fly wide open in panic. He says, “Wait, no, I can’t – good grades or not, I can’t teach Transfiguration on my own. I’m not prepared. I’ve no lesson plan and no idea how to run the classes myself.”

 

“I’m two-hundred percent sure that you’ll be able to figure it out,” Michi says calmly. “You strike me as the ‘capable’ type.”

 

It still doesn’t assuage his anxiety, but Percy is temporarily distracted by the odd feeling of pride that the praise evokes in him. Especially considering it is coming from someone _younger_ than him. Which only reminds him, “Why were you the one sent to receive me? Why not the principal, or another teacher?”

 

“Because I’m sociable and have trouble saying no,” Michi says. She flicks a quick look to him and then cracks a smile, saying, “Ha, just kidding. It’s because everyone else is mostly too busy getting ready for the school year right now to break away and come get you. You’ll understand when you get there. The two weeks leading up to the beginning of classes are go-go-go for everyone here.”

 

“Still though,” Percy says, frowning at her. “Sending a student seems a bit …”

 

“Student council president,” Michi corrects, though she doesn’t sound particularly bothered by it. “And besides, one thing you’ll learn here? The students are just as involved in the things that go on here as the teachers. Sometimes even more so.”

 

He doesn’t understand what she means by that at first. Is she saying the students run the school here? Percy is horrified by the thought. No wonder it’s seems such a mess. How are they getting away with it?

 

“Not to mention most of our teachers are alumni, so it’s like we’re all really just students.” Michi hesitates, drumming her fingers again over the steering wheel. “We’re a tight-knit community.” Then, looking over at him with a surprisingly warm smile, she says, “One that you’re apart of now, Percy.”

 

Percy doesn’t quite know how to respond to that. It’s a new experience; actually being voluntarily _invited_ into a group. People usually don’t much like Percy. Percy usually doesn’t much like people, either. These people, though – if they’re anything like this girl, he’s not entirely sure _what_ to think of them.

 

His eyes catch on something large up ahead, and he turns to face forward. From amongst the trees, Ashwood Valley High emerges. Percy’s heart sinks.

 

It looks – _rickety_ , is the best word he can think of.

 

It’s a large building, wide and tall, though no more than five stories off the ground at its highest peak. The lower two levels are mostly hidden behind a massive curtain of greenery and trees which climb up the base of the school like moss. In the places that _are_ visible, however, he sees that the walls are made of grey stone darkened by weather-wear and overgrown with ivy. There are long, sheltered walkways of sloppy stone arches and rusted railings which stretch across the front. The upper floors are made of shoddy wood that looks rotted in some places (a few, he assumes, must in fact _be_ rotted, as their floors seem to be horribly slanted) and copious with glass windows. At the top, the angled roofs are covered with ancient-looking shingles, flanked by a variety of chimneys which look ready to crumble at any moment.

 

The building looks just a puff of wind away from falling over. _Merlin’s beard_.

 

“I know, OK? Not much to look at,” Michi says quickly. “It’s better on the inside.”

 

“It’s a _safety hazard_ , is what it is,” Percy objects. “Do you really allow students in there?”

 

“Hey,” Michi says, just a bit sharply. “Watch it. Students are our first priority here; we’d never do anything to willingly endanger them. Our main building isn’t much, but it _is_ safe.”

 

Percy has no response other than to turn his attention back to the building with concern. True, Hogwarts can look a bit … _shabby_ from the outside in its own right, but that is hardly comparable to – _this_. Percy wonders, not for the first time today (and certainly not the last), if he’s just made a terrible mistake in accepting this job.

 

Michi turns them off at a curve slightly away from the main building, and they pass right by it. It doesn’t look much better up close. Though, Percy does grudgingly admit, it at least looks a bit sturdier at this proximity. No cleaner, however.

 

The school is built on the sloping land of one side of the valley. As such, the ground on their right (upon which the main building sits) rises much higher than the ground on their left. Percy notes a large number of stone staircases and covered walkways which descend from the main building, passing over or through their road, and move further on down the hill.

 

Looking out Michi’s window, he can see a handful of smaller, stone bungalows, covered with moss and ivy from base to thatched roof, which are nestled into the slope of the land. A plethora of stone paths and stairs criss-crosses between them like a spider web. For a moment, Percy can imagine hundreds of students walking on those paths at the same time, bustling around and about like busy bees in a hive.

 

“We call those the ‘portables.’ Which–” She speaks over his forming protest quickly. “–is a joke, because, y’know, they’re anything but. Anyway, those are where the smaller or more specialized classes are. Arithmancy, for example, or some of our upper level STEM classes that don’t need a whole lot of space.”

 

“Stem classes?” Percy repeats curiously. He’s never heard the term before.

 

Michi shoots him a skeptical look and then blinks, something dawning on her. “Right. Pureblood. OK.” Percy stiffens, preparing to object once more, but she looks forward again and starts explaining, “STEM stands for science, technology, engineering, and mathematics. Professional-level jobs in the modern, non-magic job economy. They’re the goal to shoot for, if you’re going that route. For some of us, they’re our best hope of pulling ourselves out of the lower percentiles.”

 

And Percy, embarrassingly, feels rather lost regarding nearly about half of what she’s just said. He does pick up one thing, however: “Do you mean to say that they teach Muggle classes here?”

 

“Yeah. Geez, Percy, how much research on this school did you do before you came here?” she asks.

 

Percy blushes and looks away, saying snootily, “There wasn’t much time for it, what with all the sudden preparations for moving and my having to get an international Portkey _approved by the Ministry_.”

 

She ignores the jab easily. “We offer a double diploma program here: you can go for a Muggle high school diploma, a magical one, or both, if you’re ambitious.”

 

“Both?” Percy says, a bit dumbfounded. He had a hard enough time at Hogwarts with just one diploma; he can hardly imagine going for two entirely different ones at the same time.

 

Michi nods. “If you want to.”

 

They curve down the hill again, following the road as they go down. The ground is starting to level a bit, and the buildings are beginning to spread out more. They look more modern, as well. A few even look normal, Percy notes wryly.

 

“Why would anyone here pursue a Muggle school diploma, though? I don’t understand,” Percy says.

 

“Because our economy is a shitfest right now. Because you need to find work wherever you can, and because you can’t do that without getting a diploma,” Michi says, and Percy is shocked by the blatant anger in her voice. It sounds as though she has made these points many times. He shifts a bit, uneasy, in his seat.

 

Michi notices the gesture and makes a visible effort to calm herself, flexing her hands over the steering wheel. She says softly after a moment, “Sorry.” Then, recovering instantly, she adds, “Anyway, yeah. We’ve got Muggle and magical classes here. You might even end up teaching a few Muggle classes yourself later on, depending on your skillset.”

 

“I doubt that,” Percy says, frowning. He can’t think of a single aspect of Muggle education for which he has any particular fondness or aptitude in. His father, perhaps, might be better suited for the job.

 

Any of his siblings, actually, might be better suited for this job. Percy has no doubt that _Bill_ would be able to teach Transfiguration on his own at a new school, fresh out of Hogwarts or otherwise. Charlie, too, would probably have jumped at the chance to teach Care of Magical Creatures by himself to younger students. Merlin, Percy could even see the twins being able to pull something like this off; they’ve always been better at dealing with younger students than him.

 

“Hey.” Michi’s voice breaks him from his thoughts. He looks up at her and, with a jump, realizes that they’ve stopped. He quickly looks out of the windshield to see where they are.

 

It’s a clearing, much like the ones he spotted earlier. They’re stopped in a very Muggle-looking car park, spaces doled out with vivid white lines, though only a few of the spaces are occupied with other cars right now. A glance behind tells him that this is where the road they have been traveling on terminates. It also tells him that they are surrounded by the slightly-less-shabby-looking buildings on all sides.

 

“What were you thinking about?” Michi asks as she pulls the parking brake up.

 

“What?” Percy asks, turning to her with honest confusion.

 

“Up until now. You were spacing out over something,” she explains. At his blank look, she shakes her head and cuts the ignition (the radio with it), pushing her car door open with her other hand. As she stands up and stretches her arms over her head, she says casually, “Whatever it was, you looked pretty depressed about it.”

 

“I don’t remember what it was,” Percy says as he picks up his briefcase and opens his own door.

 

The air is cool, fresh, and impressively humid as it closes in around him, accompanied by the warm light of the sun high overhead. While he would usually appreciate the nice weather, it makes his suit feel stuffy. He thinks back on Michi’s comment about changing for a moment before brushing the thought away.

 

“Well,” Michi says, turning to face him. There is a small smile on her face and a sincere light in her eyes as she stares at him from across the car roof. “If you remember and want to talk about it, I’m here.”

 

Again, Percy looks away uncomfortably. Awfully friendly, this girl. Hasn’t she been told to be wary of strangers? Or perhaps she’s only mocking him, like Fred and George. He doesn’t know her character well enough yet to tell the difference.

 

Michi shuts her car door, saying, “Alright.” Percy shuts his as well. She locks the doors with her key and then looks up at him, still smiling. “We’ll head to the dorms first. Let you unpack. Then we can start with the tour.”

 

Percy nods and follows after as she starts to walk off towards their left.

 

“These are the dorms.” Michi gestures around them at the various buildings. “The ones closer to the main building – those are the ones for the freshman. As you work your way back, you get the sophomores, juniors, and then the seniors. It’s set up that way for safety purposes; have the worst fighters closest to the main building in case there’s an emergency and we need to run there. You’ll get the emergency drill and evacuation plans from Steadley when you meet with him.”

 

Percy frowns, wondering how often they have these emergencies. He had naturally assumed that this school had adequate security measures like Hogwarts, but what if it doesn’t? Are they all constantly in threat of Deatheater attack here? How active are Deatheaters in America right now?

 

They’ve walked by many of the buildings already (Percy thinks he can see a few students peeking out at them from their windows), but Michi continues straight past them. She says, “You’ve got two buildings per year: one for the boys, one for the girls. Transgender, agender, or other students who just don’t fit into either of those categories get their pick. There are dorm advisors living in each building who do patrols on their own time, so that’s not going to be one of your duties, don’t worry.”

 

They pass another building, and then there is only one building left for them to possibly be walking towards. As expected, Michi has them move directly towards it.

 

It is a wide building, just three stories tall, made of (slightly old) white wood and full of windows. The first floor has a covered porch at the front with a bench-swing on one end and a screen door on the other. A stone chimney juts up from the left side of the building, and the third floor has several gables sticking out from the grey-shingled roof. It looks a bit run-down, yet, oddly, homey. Like the Burrow.

 

“This is the teachers’ dorm. We call it Madonna,” Michi says, nodding to the building ahead.

 

“You call it what?” Because Percy may not know a lot about Muggle pop culture, but he at least vaguely recognizes that name. And knows that it’s hardly an appropriate title for a teachers’ dorm building.

 

“Ha, yeah, there’s a story behind that. But later, OK?” Michi jumps over the steps leading up to the porch and rushes to pull the screen door open. There is another door behind it; this one made of wood, painted a warm shade of blue, with a brass doorknob. “The dorms here all have magical locks on the doors: it’s a wand access code system. If you have permission to enter a building, then all you need is just to point your wand at the door.”

 

Interesting, Percy thinks. Not as interesting as the portrait system at Hogwarts, but, he supposes, a bit more efficient. He can think of several times where it would have been nice to not have had to argue with a hysterical Fat Lady just to get back into his own dorm after late-night patrols.

 

She gestures to the door as he comes up, saying, “Go ahead and try your wand.”

 

Curious himself, Percy pulls his wand out of his sleeve and points it at the door, wondering if there is a certain incantation he needs to say. His name, perhaps. But, no, he hears the sharp “click” of the door’s lock almost instantly. Michi reaches over to turn the knob of the wooden door and pushes it open, smiling. She slants her head towards the interior and walks inside, allowing Percy to follow.

 

The inside is a simple foyer with white, wooden walls (slightly smoother and nicer than the ones outside), polished, brown wooden floors, and a crystal chandelier overhead. The walls are hung with pleasant (unmoving) watercolor paintings of nature scenes, and the floor is covered in a few places with carpets that have white and blue, vine-like designs on them. The air in here is warm, well-lit by the light streaming through the windows to the outside.

 

The wall on the right has an archway which opens to a corridor full of wooden doors. On the left, there is a set of simple, French doors (draped on the other side of the glass with white curtains) which lead to some unknown room, though Percy can hear muted cheering and yelling voices coming from the other side. Ahead of them is a staircase going up and then bending to the left and out of sight behind the wall.

 

Michi takes a few steps forward and turns around to face him, smiling. “Welcome to Madonna.”

 

“It’s … surprisingly pleasant,” Percy comments, minding to shut the door behind him. The lock turns into place again the moment he does with a little “snick.”

 

Michi laughs. “Appreciate the honesty.” Pointing to the doors on the left, she says, “The lounge is through those doors. The teachers like to hang out in there: watch TV, complain about students and papers, the usual.” Another chorus of cheers breaks out from behind the doors, making both Michi and Percy turn to it. Michi’s smile widens. “I think they’re watching baseball right now. We can postpone the tour if you want to join them after you unpack.”

 

Percy sniffs and turns away from the door. “I’d rather not.”

 

“Alright then.” She nods and glances over to the hall on the right. “Over there are the first floor dorms. Henry, the dorm advisor, is the last room on the left if you need him for anything.” She turns and walks over to the stairs, saying, “Your room is on the second floor. Come on.”

 

Percy follows her up the stairs, startled by how loud a few of the stairs squeal when he steps on them. He notices quickly that Michi seems to avoiding the “louder” spots and attempts to step in the same places as her, wondering how she knows this.

 

The stairs settle on the second floor, which resembles the foyer with its white walls, wooden floors, and windows stationed on the wall directly across from the stairs. The only difference is that the second floor has no lounge; there are only corridors filled with wooden doors in either direction. Michi starts them walking down the corridor to their left.

 

She flicks her wrist at a new staircase they pass which leads upwards, saying, “That goes to the third floor. There’s no real order to who has what apartment where; the teachers are just kind of thrown in wherever there’s a vacancy. Any teacher who doesn’t commute from off campus, or doesn’t have their own house on campus somewhere else, lives in this dorm. It’s a little crowded sometimes, but we thankfully haven’t needed to expand it yet.” She pauses and then adds flippantly, “Dunno what we’ll do if we have to.”

 

Michi stops abruptly in front of one of the doors halfway down the corridor, and Percy stops with her. It’s a simple, wooden door like all the rest, only this one’s golden nameplate is engraved with the word “Windham” written in sloppy letters. Undoubtedly the room’s previous owner. Percy frowns, making a note to himself to change it later.

 

“The doors leading into Madonna are coded to let in all staff. And me, and a few other students who might need to meet up with teachers for whatever reason.” Michi crosses her arms and steps back from the door. “This one should only open for you and Cale.”

 

“Cale?” Percy asks, confused.

 

She points to the nameplate on the door, saying, “Caleb Windham. He’s your roommate.”

 

Percy’s frown deepens dramatically. “I … I’m to share a room with someone?”

 

Michi simpers. “Ah, well, I said we were tight on space, didn’t I? But it’s not like you’re actually sharing a _room_. You’ll be suitemates. Or, I think the British term is ‘flatmates.’ These rooms are apartment style: two bedrooms each.”

 

Not the same room then, though it’s hardly better. Percy can only think back to his experience with Oliver; they never particularly saw eye to eye, to put it lightly. What with Oliver always getting off easy with McGonagall on punishments because he was Quidditch captain, and Percy refusing to give him the same privilege because _riding about on a broom all day does not make you above the rules, Wood_. Percy’s history with roommates is poor, to say the least, and he worries about how it will go here.

 

“It’ll be alright, I promise. Here–” She waves her hand at the door, saying, “Go ahead and open it. Cale’s probably downstairs watching the game right now anyway.”

 

Nodding nervously, Percy brings up his wand and points it at the door like before. He hears it unlock and turns the knob himself this time, pushing the door open.

 

More white in here, though now it is both in the pure, white wallpaper and the slightly duller white wooden planks which make up the floor and ceiling (from which two small, old, brass chandeliers hang). The room is rectangular (long ways) with the kitchen in the half of the room closest to the door and what Percy assumes to be the living room area in the other.

 

He steps into the room and silently begins to look about.

 

The kitchen is small but neat: white cabinets mounted high or built into the wood-topped counters below with a backsplash of white tile on the walls between them. There is an old, four-burner gas stove against the right wall and a waist-high, white appliance (Percy vaguely recalls his father dubbing them “refrigerators”) on the same wall as the door, next to the sink. There are a few more appliances as well he doesn’t quite recognize placed on top of the counters. The kitchen is sectioned off from the living area by a breakfast bar with a wood countertop, to which three, wooden stools are pushed in.

 

He moves past the kitchen and into the living room area, enjoying the smell of parchment and warm dust which permeates in the air.

 

The wall across from the door is illuminated by three tall windows side-by-side, a couple of books stacked in front of them on the sill and an old, white radiator built into the sill underneath them. A blue, worn (yet admittedly comfortable-looking) couch is pushed against the wall on the right, and a grey chair is wedged into the corner next to it with a blue, knitted afghan draped over the back of it. There is a shoddy, wooden coffee table placed in front of the couch, legs resting upon a grey rug spread across the floor, and Percy sees a few more books and a wizarding newspaper with moving pictures stacked on top it. Against the left wall is a sparse wooden bookcase; little more than a few shelves which are stacked on top of another by thin, wooden braces. Nevertheless, every shelf is packed with tomes and volumes or the occasional magical trinket. Percy has a brief moment of relief – at least he knows his flatmate reads.

 

“Not too shabby, right?” Michi asks as she shuts the door and comes in behind him. When he turns back to her, she is studying his expression carefully. Almost hopefully.

 

Percy flushes a bit, embarrassed and yet pleased that someone is looking for _his_ approval on something. “No, not bad at all. It’s rather charming, actually.”

 

The beaming smile he receives seems disproportionately elated for the comment which prompted it. Michi says, “I mean, I know it’s no Hogwarts, but …”

 

“I never had my own flat at Hogwarts,” Percy points out, looking around again, already with some fondness for the place. It’s not particularly posh, or modern, or glamorous. But is undeniably comfy and bright.

 

This – _this_ he could see becoming his home. It’s not Hogwarts, nor the Burrow, but it could definitely be _his_.

 

“Great. Awesome. OK, so …” Michi looks around the apartment, eyes catching on the doors on the wall to their left. There are two sets of white, double doors there: stationed on opposite ends of the wall from one another and both currently shut. She moves over to the pair closest to the window, saying, “Cale’s room is the one closer to the door. This is yours.”

 

She grabs the handles of the door and pushes them open, stepping aside to allow him in first.

 

The bedroom follows the same wall-floor-and-ceiling scheme as the main room, right down to the brass chandelier which hangs from the center of the ceiling. The wall facing outwards, however, has two separate sets of double-windows (which flood the room with natural sunlight) with two separate window sills and two separate radiators underneath. An archaic yet stylish wooden desk and cushioned chair are pushed into the corner between the doors and the windows. A slightly rusted, brass furnace sits in the corner between the doors and the opposite wall with a tall, wooden wardrobe next to it. Most of the room, however, is taken up by the queen-sized bed pushed against the wall opposite of the door, already made with white sheets, a few white pillows, and a soft-looking, blue comforter.

 

The room is narrow, and old, and, from all the various heating sources, Percy assumes it must get a bit cold during the winter. But it is bright, and peaceful, and he has to grit his teeth to keep from tearing up a bit, because (as wretched a day as this has been for him so far) this is _exactly_ what he had been hoping for. Without even realizing it. He can definitely make this his home.

 

“Here’s your room,” Michi says needlessly. She points to a closed door on the wall opposite of the windows, saying, “That’s your bathroom, which you’ll share with Cale. But this room is all yours.”

 

Cale. Caleb. Percy recalls his flatmate suddenly, jarringly. The one person who can turn this little piece of paradise into a nightmare.

 

He sets his briefcase down on the bed ( _his_ bed) and opens it, trying for a cool and detached tone as he says, “Mister Windham, yes. Tell me about him.”

 

Michi notices that he is going to start unpacking and politely steps out of the bedroom. She moves on to the living room, beginning to browse through books in the bookcase. “Cale? He’s a cool guy. Graduated from here last year and started teaching right away, so he’s only a year older than you.”

 

“Oh.” A pause, then a “click” where she guesses he must have opened the wardrobe. He says, “That’s good.”

 

She smiles. He _was_ nervous then. She says, “I know I said we throw the teachers in randomly, but that’s not completely true. We _do_ try to put them together by compatibility. Cale was around your age, and you two have similar interests.”

 

“Such as what?” Percy asks, failing to hide his curiosity.

 

She pulls _One Thousand and One Nights_ off of the shelf and begins to flip through the familiar pages with interest. “Well, he teaches Charms here. Kind of goes hand-in-hand with Transfig. He was top of his class and student council vice president. And, as you’ve probably noticed, he’s a big reader.” She pauses, considering more similarities, and says, “He comes from a pretty large family, too.”

 

She can _feel_ the change in tension coming from his room. He asks cautiously, “You know about my family?”

 

“Background check, remember?” she responds casually, though her interest is piqued. Family issues? Is that part of why he was willing to come all the way to America? “But, yeah, he’s got four siblings. Oldest of the batch – his younger sister is a sophomore here right now, and his younger brother starts next year.”

 

“Ah,” Percy says. She can tell from his tone that that seems to be all he wants to speak on _this_ subject. Definitely family issues then. She’ll have to ask Warren to look into it.

 

“Cale is really friendly though. Super easy to get along with. I’m positive you two will be fine.” She stops paging on a picture and traces the ink drawing with her fingers. “And, if you’re not, just tell me or Henry. We can try you with someone else, if it’s really not working out with you two.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Percy says, sounding like he means it.

 

She fixes on this. “Have you had roommates before, Percy?”

 

He coughs once, clearing his throat roughly, and says, “Ahm, yes, I did. All through my school years. You share a dormitory room with the males of your year and House at Hogwarts.”

 

“And … how did that go?” she asks. She already has some idea though.

 

A distinct pause, where the only sound is that of rustling clothes. Percy finally speaks, tone filled with forced detachment, “Fine.”

 

Right. Well, there’s her answer. Poor guy. She changes the subject: “So I’ve read about the Hogwarts Houses. That’s some intense inner-school rivalry you guys’ve got going on there.”

 

“I admit it did add an interesting element to school life,” Percy agrees, seeming greatly more comfortable with the new topic. “Do they have anything like that here?”

 

“‘fraid not.” Michi closes the book and puts it back on the shelf, continuing to browse. “We’re already divided enough naturally. It’s why we’ve got all the alliance councils and representatives. If there’s one thing we’re not at a lack for here, it’s diversity.”

 

He doesn’t respond. Probably the only thing he can do, considering he most likely has no idea what she’s talking about. _Yet_. He’ll find out soon enough.

 

“So what House were you in?” she asks, though she already knows. It’s good, though – to open him up like this. He should feel comfortable here, especially on his first day. Him liking the apartment is the first step. Getting him some actual friends here is the second, though that one might be a bit harder if past experience is any indicator.

 

“Gryffindor,” he answers proudly.

 

She nods. “House of courage and determination.” She pulls _Hamlet_ out next, pleasantly surprised to find that it’s a wizarding version: Hamlet and Ophelia are arguing animatedly on the cover. “Funny. I’d peg you more as a Ravenclaw. Or maybe a Slytherin.”

 

The silence that follows is deafening. She senses the change immediately and looks up from the book, startled.

 

“Why would you say that?” he asks quietly, just the weakest attempt at unaffected curiosity in his voice.

 

Bad topic. Bad, bad, _bad_ topic. But she doesn’t know _why_. She says carefully, “You just strike me more as the academic type. Or ambitious. You went for a job at the Ministry, right? I’d call that pretty ambitious –”

 

“Slytherin is _not_ the House of ambition,” Percy snaps.

 

She actually jumps a bit, hands clenching the book tighter. Then, slowly, “Sorry, then, I was wrong. I read a book about Hogwarts a little while ago that said Slytherin was the House of cunning and ambition.”

 

“Well – well, it _is_ the House of ambition, I suppose,” Percy says, sounding frustrated. He adds quickly, “But those aren’t the sorts of wizards who end up in there, you know. Not at all. Only the worse kind are sorted into Slytherin. I would never have been put there.”

 

She understands immediately and has to hold back a sigh of relief. Just a House rivalry then. She should’ve guessed he would react badly to a comment like that, considering _all_ of his immediate family went through Gryffindor too. That was her mistake.

 

“OK. I didn’t mean anything by it, sorry.” She glances down at the book clutched in her hands and realizes that the little Prince Hamlet is shaking his fist at her and yelling silently, probably because her fingers are digging into the cover. She loosens her hold quickly and says to Percy, “I guess it’s hard to get a good gauge of the Houses just from a book.”

 

“Yes, well, I suppose it is,” he says, back to his default, snooty tone. She’ll have to work with him on that; he won’t be making very many friends here like _that_.

 

She hesitates on what to talk about next: both family and school are off limits until she gets a better grasp of where, exactly, the mines are hidden in those topics. Maybe something about his time here?

 

Oh, that’s right. “You don’t happen to have a cell phone, do you, Percy?”

 

“A what phone?” he asks, befuddled.

 

“Right,” she says. She’d already expected it. “They’re portable phones Muggles use to communicate with each other over distances. Kind of like two-way mirrors, but they run on electricity and let you contact more than just one other person. I’ll get one to you before next Monday.”

 

“I’d rather not,” he says. She can hear the grimace in his voice.

 

“Too bad,” she says, not willing to budge on this point. “Things are going to be happening around campus, and people need a way to get in contact with you during the day. Letters and owls aren’t always going to be fast enough, and I guarantee you won’t be near a Floo place more often than not.”

 

“I won’t know how to use it!” he says, nearly whining now.

 

Michi rolls her eyes, but her lips pull up in a smile. Purebloods. Technophobic, down to the DNA. “I’ll teach you how to use it when I bring it to you. It’s not that hard once you get used to it, promise.”

 

“Is there any way to get on without it?” Percy asks, appearing in the doorway of his room.

 

Michi looks up when she notices him and returns the book to the shelf. She walks over in his direction, saying, “No, sadly. But trust me – there are worse things in the world than being given a free cell phone.”

 

Percy frowns, like he’s just realized something. He turns back into his room, and Michi follows him in. He asks, “Are they expensive?”

 

“Some are. Not the one you’ll be getting; that’ll just be an old model some friends and I will whip together from scraps. Nothing too impressive. If you want a newer or better one, you’ll unfortunately have to buy it yourself,” Michi says.

 

She doesn’t imagine the tensing of his shoulders just then. “Er, no, that won’t be necessary. Whatever you can give me will do fine, I’m certain.”

 

And, because Michi isn’t top of her class for nothing, she glances over at his wardrobe with thoughtful eyes. It’s nearly empty: just another two piece suit and tie, three old-looking sweaters (two of which have a big “P” across the front), two pairs of corduroys, and an extra pair of dulled leather shoes. She guesses his underwear must be in the drawer below it, but, otherwise, it looks empty. Really empty.

 

“You … really don’t have a lot of clothes, do you?” she asks.

 

His back snaps straight like a rubber band, tension cording every muscle she can see. He says stiffly, “I fail to see how that is any of your business.”

 

“No, that’s not – Percy, I get it.” She reaches out and grasps his left arm, but he turns around to glare at her, jerking out of her hold at the same time. He looks surprised by the sympathetic smile on her face, as if he was expecting pity or maybe even disgust. She says, “I get it. I think I already mentioned it before, but my family’s on hard times, too.”

 

She sees some of the tightness in his face ease. Maybe he remembers her mentioning it. She laughs and says, “Hell, this whole school is on hard times. If you haven’t already noticed (don’t know how you couldn’t have), we’re not exactly rolling in money around here.”

 

Percy nods, but he’s still looks ashamed of it.

 

She reaches out and grasps his arm again, the right one this time. He lets her. She smiles up at him, saying earnestly, “A quarter of the kids at this school are on welfare and food stamps. If they had money, their families would have sent them to some of the better wizarding schools overseas. Like Hogwarts.” He winces when she says this, but she keeps on before he can speak. “Point is, we’re all in the same boat here. Don’t forget that, OK?”

 

“Alright,” he says gruffly, looking away. She guesses that’s the best she’ll get from him. For now.

 

She squeezes his arm one last time and then lets it go, moving over to his wardrobe. She starts to check the tags on his clothes, talking over his protests, “We’ve got a system set up here, backed by Goodwill and a couple of other charities. I can get some more clothes for you, maybe even before school starts. Lemme just check your sizes.”

 

“I’m _not_ taking clothes from charity,” Percy objects, moving between her and his wardrobe.

 

“Who are you taking clothes from then?” she asks, amused.

 

“No one.”

 

“Yeah?” She raises an eyebrow at him. “So you’re just gonna wear the same two suits and three sweaters over and over again? It’ll be hot here until October. How are you going to stay cool? And we don’t wear uniforms here, remember. What are you gonna do when the students start asking why you always wear the same things?”

 

He blushes, and it’s like a fire on his pale complexion. “I – I’ll deal with issues as they arise.”

 

“Fuck, I don’t have time for pride,” Michi groans, turning away. She walks over towards his doorway and turns back again, leaning against one of the doors and crossing her arms over her chest. The look she shoots him is sharp and stern. “I’m getting you more clothes, Carrot Top. And, _regardless_ of whether or not they’re from charity, you’re damn well gonna wear them. You got that?”

 

His flush deepens. “I –”

 

Percy startles as he hears the sound of the front door opening. He hadn’t even heard it unlock. He watches nervously as Michi slides her upper half back across the door, peeking into the living room and towards the front door.

 

“Hey, Cale,” she says casually.

 

There’s a sigh, then a deep, young man’s voice saying, “Mich, what’d I tell you about breaking into my apartment?”

 

Michi nods her head in Percy’s direction, saying, “Roommate.”

 

“He here?” Percy hears footsteps crossing the main room and quickly smooths down his suit, trying to arrange his features into any expression other than terrified. His roommate appears in the doorway behind Michi a moment later.

 

He is, in fact, just a year older than Percy. Equally as tall (if not a bit taller) but with a fuller, runner’s build of lean muscles. His skin is slightly tan, his hair blonde and falling to just below his ears in curls, and his eyes are something between blue and green. Percy’s gaze is immediately drawn to the right corner of his lips, underneath which are two little silver studs that follow along his bottom lip line. Piercings, he notes with distaste. He has more of them on his ears: flat, black studs in either lobe and a silver ring through the outer shell of his left ear. He sports brown cargo shorts, a white and navy striped tank top, and a pair of worn out blue sneakers. A faded, green, canvas messenger bag hangs off his right shoulder.

 

He looks absolutely nothing like Percy thought he would. _This_ is the bloke who likes books and was at the top of his class? He looks like a beach tramp. Though (Percy grudgingly concedes) he _is_ a bit handsome.

 

Caleb studies him back passively. “Sharp suit.”

 

Again, Percy tenses, uncertain whether the comment is meant to be honest or mocking. Odds are it’s the latter. He says coldly, “Percy Weasley. Nice to meet you.”

 

Surprisingly, Caleb grins at him, flashing white teeth and making his piercings gleam. “Ah, you’ve got the accent. Michi mentioned you were from the UK.”

 

“Yes, I am,” Percy says, tone fluctuating between affronted and shy.

 

Caleb walks past Michi and up to him, holding out his hand. “‘m Caleb Windham. Nice to meet you, too.”

 

Percy shakes his hand, feeling slightly better about the situation. He seems friendly enough.

 

Caleb drops his hand after a moment and looks around Percy’s room a bit. His gazes catches on Percy’s briefcase, lighting up, and he sidesteps Percy to approach it. Peering inside, he asks, “You put an Extension Charm on this?”

 

Percy nods, approaching his briefcase as well. He says proudly, “I wanted to avoid an excess of luggage, you see.”

 

Caleb nods back, reaching into the briefcase until his arm is submerged to the elbow. There’s a wicked grin on his face now as he stares down at it, saying, “‘s good charmwork. You ever try to crawl in before?”

 

Blinking, Percy says, “No.” He shoots an uncertain glance down to the briefcase. “I’m not entirely certain I could fit through the opening.”

 

“What about a Space Warping Charm?” Caleb pulls his arm out and traces the opening of the briefcase with his fingers. “Right here. Just enough to squeeze you through.”

 

“I suppose so,” Percy concedes.

 

Bending his head down to look inside the briefcase, Caleb comments, “Looks like there’s enough room for someone, if you clear the rest of the stuff out.”

 

“Why are you so interested in fitting me into my briefcase?” Percy asks, honestly confused. And a mite worried.

 

Caleb surprises him again, this time by erupting in laughter. He brings his right hand up to clasp Percy’s left shoulder, making the redhead stumble a bit and frown deeply at him. Is he being made fun of again? He’s not sure.

 

Percy looks over at his new flatmate when the other man’s laughter finally subsides. Caleb is smiling at him, a warm smile that Percy hadn’t been expecting. He says, “Yeah, this’ll work.”

 

Something eases a bit inside Percy when he realizes what Caleb means; he thinks that rooming with _Percy_ will work. Percy has his approval. It’s a rather strange feeling, but he’s oddly proud. He schools his features into an unaffected expression and nods.

 

“Welcome to Ashwood Valley, Percy,” Caleb says, releasing his shoulder and turning away. He puts his hands in the pockets of his shorts and begins to walk out of the room.

 

“Er, thank you,” Percy says, still feeling a bit startled by the whole encounter.

 

Michi watches Caleb pass by with a wide smile on her face, which she quickly turns onto Percy the moment Caleb walks out of sight. She says quietly, “See? It’s fine. You guys’ll do great together.”

 

“He seems friendly enough,” Percy speaks his thought from earlier as he turns back to his own briefcase. His clothes are unpacked, but he still has the rest of his books and supplies. He grimaces at his briefcase and adds a bit more quietly, “Despite his … _questionable_ piercings.”

 

“Oh, lighten up, Percy,” Michi says dismissively. “People find self-expression in a variety of different ways. Just because he doesn’t wear suits and has a few piercings doesn’t mean you two can’t be similar on the inside. Doesn’t mean he’s not a good guy, either, right?”

 

“I suppose,” Percy agrees hesitantly. As the case is now, he has no rebuttal for it. He still isn’t fond of the idea however; there is something particularly repelling for him at the notion of sticking holes in your face.

 

Michi nods and turns around, saying, “I’m gonna go talk to Cale about some prep stuff for the start of the semester. Come get me whenever you’re done unpacking, and we’ll start the tour.”

 

Percy hums, nodding once in a distracted manner, and proceeds to pull yet another book out of his briefcase. Michi shoots a smile at him over her shoulder and then steps into the living room. She walks towards the front door before turning off into the open double doors that lead to Caleb’s room.

 

Caleb’s room isn’t much different from Percy’s, aside from the lack of windows (Caleb picked the inner of the two rooms because he hates the sun waking him up in the morning) and a few more personal touches: the posters (bands, athletes, some magical and some not) on the walls, the frames with photos of his family on his desk, the half-bookcase next to the closed bathroom door, and the stack of old books on the nightstand next to his bed, just to name a few. His wardrobe, too, is more filled than Percy’s, and the clothes look a bit newer.

 

Caleb is standing by his bed when she comes in; his messenger bag slung on top of his bed and his hands pulling out the papers and books inside. He ignores her, up until the point where she shuts the doors of his room behind her and pulls out her wand to cast a quick silencing charm on them.

 

When she turns back to him, he has his eyebrows raised at her, holding a book in his hand with an unimpressed look. “That’s gonna look suspicious.”

 

Michi smirks at him. “He’ll be unpacking for a while. We’re fine.”

 

“Yeah, see, still sounding suspicious,” Caleb says, pointing at her with his book. He moves over to his desk to place it on top of one of the stacks there and then goes back to his bag.

 

“I need to talk to you about Percy,” she says, walking up to sit on the edge of his bed.

 

“Yeah? What’s up?” he asks as he pulls a stack of haphazard papers out of his bag. He hands them over to her.

 

She starts to shuffle and sort them instantly. “First off, I was hoping he could borrow some clothes from you for the next couple of weeks. I’ll get him some stuff from the network before classes start, but, for now, he’s got nothing he can wear that won’t eventually result in him passing out from heatstroke.”

 

“Uh, sure. We’re probably about the same sizes, right?” Caleb flicks a distracted look over to his wardrobe, as if wondering what he’ll lend Percy, before looking back to her. “Is he on board with this?”

 

“No.” She finishes sorting the papers and holds them out to him.

 

“Ah.” He takes them from her and sets them on his desk, then goes to hang his messenger bag up on a hook on the wall by the bathroom door, over the bookcase. “Well, I’ll get some stuff together for him. Your job to get him to take them though.”

 

“Deal,” she agrees. He moves over to the bed and flops down on his back across it, shaking the mattress and Michi with it. She smiles and says, “Second, I wanted to ask you to keep an eye out for him this next month or two. He kind of came here spur of the moment, and he’s pureblood, so he knows pretty much jack all about Muggle things. Or about this school.”

 

“That sucks.”

 

She nods. “He’ll be kind of floundering around for the first part of the semester, and I want to make sure that he’s got people watching out for him.” She glances at him over her shoulder, an intense, determined look on her face that he meets with a blank one of his own. She says, “I want to keep him, Cale. We never hold onto new teachers, and Mackie was super happy when he found out he’d get to teach Physics. He was never too big on teaching Transfig anyway.”

 

“Yeah, I guess,” Caleb says, sitting up on his elbows. “Still, Mich, you sure about this? I mean, he seems like a cool guy, but he’s gonna stick out here. It’ll be an uphill battle – trying to get people to let him in.”

 

“I’m going to fight for it anyway,” Michi says. “Maybe, if we can hold onto him, teachers from other places will be more willing to give us a shot, too. ‘cause, god, Cale, you know well as I do how much we need more teachers around here. We can’t keep relying on students and graduates forever.”

 

“Yeah, that’s probably true.” He nods up at the ceiling, then lies back down. “OK, I’ll watch out for him. But I’m not gonna be his babysitter.”

 

“Don’t need you to be,” she says. Then, glancing over to the wall that his room shares with the joint bathroom, she says, “But, uh, there’s something else.”

 

He puffs out a little breath, like a sigh he’s too lazy to complete. “What?”

 

“ _Apparently_ , he didn’t know he’d be teaching Transfig on his own here. Thought he’d be working under a professor or something, I don’t know. Either way, he kind of freaked out earlier.” She pauses, planting her hands on the comforter behind her and leaning back on them. “Almost ran, but I calmed him down. Anyway, he might try to do it again at some point – I don’t know yet. But if he does, can you send me a text?”

 

“Fuck, Michi, your guy’s a flight risk?” Caleb asks, but he sounds amused.

 

“He’ll be fine once classes start,” she says confidently. “It’s just the next two weeks where he kind of needs to be on watch. So, if you wouldn’t mind, just let me know if something happens. I’ll take it from there.”

 

“Alright.” He nods again. He asks teasingly, “Anything else?”

 

“No. End of favor asking session.” She kicks her legs up and throws herself back onto the bed next to him, asking the ceiling, “How’d your Rays do?”

 

He groans. “What can I say? The A’s showed us up. Jennings had a good hit though.”

 

“Been a hard year for them,” she says.

 

Caleb nods. “Only gonna get harder from here. Postseason’s coming up, and it’s looking pretty bad.”

 

“Least you’ve got the Buccaneers once baseball is finished,” she points out.

 

He cracks a smile, saying, “Yeah. But I don’t think they’re gonna do much better this season.”

 

“Ouch. All that negativity. You’re like a Calectron,” she says, tone a deadpan.

 

He breaks out into laughter, shaking the whole bed with it. Between breaths, he says, “Fucking _nerd_.”

 

There’s a gentle knock on the doors to his room, and Michi gets up, going over to open them and breaking the silencing charm at the same time. Percy is standing in the doorway awkwardly, looking a bit suspicious as he swaps his gaze between Michi and Caleb, who is sitting up on the bed. Percy has changed into one of his pairs of corduroys and the red sweater without the “P” on it, evidently having found the suit to be unacceptably hot for the weather. Michi’s not entirely sure the sweater will be much better, but at least he looks more casual now.

 

She gives him an easy smile. “You ready?”

 

“Erm, yes,” Percy says, tugging down the hem of his sweater self-consciously.

 

“Great. Let’s go. It’s about a ten minute walk to the main building.” She starts to herd him out and over towards the front door. Calling back over her shoulder, she says, “Later, Cale!”

 

“Later,” he says back, appearing in the doorway of his room. “Good luck, man.”

 

“Thank you,” Percy says cautiously.

 

Michi is holding the door open for him when he turns back to her, something particularly determined in her blue eyes as she stares at him. He’s not sure he likes that look.

 

She breaks it a moment later with her (what is quickly becoming familiar) usual smile, slanting her head in the direction of the open door. “Come on. Lot to see.”

 

“Alright,” Percy says and nods. He walks through the doorway and starts down the corridor towards the stairs, gait confident and swift.

 

Michi looks back at Caleb over her shoulder and winks, which pulls a grin from the older boy. She takes off down the hall after Percy, letting the door click shut behind her.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place shortly after the US government shutdown of 2013, following on the heels of the economic recession of 2007. For this reason, money and job opportunities will be a major part of the story, as will be college acceptance, life in poverty or the lower middle classes, and social conflict and acceptance.


End file.
